


Ashes of Eden The -Starset Series- Chapter 7 (FINAL)

by Antigravity_Carnivore



Series: The Starset Series [7]
Category: Breaking Benjamin (Band), STARSET (Band), dustin bates - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Bandslash, Demons, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Music, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antigravity_Carnivore/pseuds/Antigravity_Carnivore
Summary: “There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This chapter may be a difficult read for some viewers. I know it was extremely difficult for me to write. I’ve tried to apply all the archive warnings that pertain to it; however, the subject material is quite explicit and violent. I did not write it this way intentionally, and it also did not write it for shock value. As a writer, I wanted to express how far this story has come, and the progression of madness that one can go through in a set period of time. I am a firm believer in not being able to experience light until you’ve come through the darkness, and I hope that I’ve managed to express it through the words you will read here.  
> I know that these characters are based on real people, but please keep in mind when reading, that these are ‘characters’ that I’ve created, they are purely fictional, so please don’t flame me for any actions that follow. All I ask is that you sit back and enjoy the story.
> 
> At the end, you will find a link to a song that I find is fitting for the ending. Please give it a listen after reading.

It was the early hours of the morning. I gazed out of the window to the horizon, watching the waves start to roll in, building in both size and speed. The thick, dark clouds loomed overhead, with loud crashes of thunder warning that the bright, brilliant flashes of lightening would be next. There were far too many storms these days. 

The droplets of rain built up on the glass pane of the kitchen window and slowly trickled down, giving the early morning a hazy, misty feel. I took the tea kettle off the stove before the whistle broke the silence of the quiet kitchen and I hurried over, pouring the boiling water into the waiting cup on the counter. Inside the ceramic mug, the hot water saturated the tea bag and soon it turned into a pleasing sepia color and the bitter aroma invaded my nostrils. Picking up the cup, I left the kitchen and started on my way down the hallway to the living room. As I walked slowly, I glanced at the many photos that lined the white walls, filled with smiling, happy faces of people I once knew, from a time not so long ago. Mixed in with the photos were also two shiny gold records, with the name of our band emblazoned across them, kept so perfectly preserved. I ran my fingers over them, and the memories came flooding back like someone had opened a gate. For a brief moment I remembered all the good times that we shared, the happiness, the joy, and the elation of being adored by so many people, but then with that also came the ones that brought bitterness, sadness and sorrow. 

I reached up and pulled one of the photos off the wall, bringing it with me. Reaching the study, I sat down at the desk and carefully set the photo down in front of me, and opened up the laptop. It seemed odd that were no musical instruments around me this time, no mixers or sound boards, just the laptop, my tea cup and the photo were all that rested on the desk. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down onto my nose, I glanced at the last line of text that I wrote and stared at it for a long time. There were so many feelings and emotions typed there on the screen, that it was almost unbearable to get through, but I had to do it. I needed to tell my story to get everything out. The blinking cursor mocked me. I could almost hear it laughing at me, daring me to press my fingers on the keys again and start to write the next section. Taking a sip of the tea, I let the warm liquid slide down my throat, slightly bitter, warming me from the inside out. It was a good, comforting feeling. I glanced over at the photo I had removed from the wall and into their eyes. They were waiting for me to finish the story. I sat the teacup back down on the desk, with slightly shaking hands and rested my fingers lightly on the keyboard. The cursor blinked it's steady pace, waiting. I took a breath and started to write once again.

The large glass doors to the venue slammed shut behind me with a loud echoing thud, which resounded powerfully in the hall. Only a few hours ago, this place was filled with fans, waiting to see the first of two back to back sold out shows, packed elbow to elbow, waiting patiently to see us, and now it was dark, silent, ominous. I quickly turned around for a moment and immediately regretted it, the pain from my broken ribs reminding me that such quick movements were not going to be possible. I wished that Ben could of stayed. I needed him. I realized that I didn't know what I was getting myself into, I was barely able to even walk, and here I was, storming into some kind of trap like a storybook hero, trying desperately to save someone that I loved very much. Pain wouldn't stop me, fear wouldn't stop me, nothing would stop me from trying to find Brock, because he meant so much to me that I couldn't abandon him. I heard a faint click and knew instantly what it was, the doors locked behind me, but still I tried to pull on them anyway out of sheer spite. They didn't budge. I knew they wouldn't. When I found Brock, I would have to find a different way out of the building. 

Summoning my strength, I walked into the corridor that led into the first series of rooms that made up the music hall. It was completely empty and quiet. All around me were the photos and posters of other musical acts that had played on the stage, some dating back to the early 1920's, with faded newspaper articles neatly clipped out and placed in their glass tomb for all to see. I wondered if our photo would ever make it up on those walls. When I reached the second set of doors, the ones that opened up into the auditorium itself, I hesitated for a moment, looking down to the ornate gold handles. There, smeared across the perfectly polished metal were partially smeared bloody fingerprints, already dried and starting to flake off. My eyes dropped down to the floor, where I could see a few stains on the carpet as well, and I choked back the rising emotions that threatened to overtake me. I opened the doors and stepped inside to the blackness. 

The air was dry, stifling and humid. It invaded my lungs, and I tried to cough, but the pain from the shattered rib made it almost unbearable. Standing still for a few moments, I heard something, far off in the distance, faint and discernible at first, I had to concentrate on what it was. Trying to drown out the sound of my own heart thumping inside of my chest, I focused on the area that I thought it came from and immediately started to panic. It was the sound of someone whimpering in pain. It had to be Brock, I just knew it. I called out to him “BROCK, BROCK is that you? Where are you man?” The sound was so muffled, subdued that I could only barely hear it. I wasn't even sure which direction it came from, being that the auditorium was so large. 

I couldn't see a thing, there were absolutely no lights on at all, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to do anything until I could see more than a few feet in front of me. I remembered that the sound and lighting booth was only a couple feet away from the entrance, and made my way to where the stairs leading to it was. With luck I found it in a few moments and ascended the stairs, hoping that the door would not be locked. Reaching the top stair, overlooking the vast hall I found the door and pushed it open, holding my breath, waiting to be disappointed, but I wasn't. It opened easily and I stepped inside to see a panel full of blinking indicator lights, ready to go at a moments notice. I flicked on the lights to the room and sat down at the control panel, staring out to where the stage area was. He had to be out there somewhere, I knew it. I started tapping buttons, trying my best to figure out which was the house lights. My panicking fingers flew across the board as fast as they could, I knew that I couldn't waste any time at all, I had to get down there, I had to find Brock. Eventually after several failed attempts, I managed to bring up the house lights, enough to illuminate the stage. From the control room, I peered out to the venue, with the vast empty space looking so desolate and derelict. It had been cleaned up since the previous night, however the stage was still set up with our gear, patiently waiting for us to return to play the second show. Everything was in it's place, the monitors, the speakers, the guitars, and the Emulator all stood there just waiting to spring into life with sound and light once again. High above it all was our tapestry banner, emblazoned with the band's logo and our name, dimly illuminated by low lights. The sight before me was eerie and bizarre, like a snapshot taken out of time. 

Looking down at the stage below, my eyes frantically searched for the source of the sound that I had heard, I had not found the correct lights, and everything was still shrouded in shadows which made for a difficult time. I looked from the stage, to the aisles and the auditorium and then back again, then I found him. Brock was sitting there, behind the Emulator, leaning up against the drum kit, slumped over with his head down, his chin resting on his chest. I jumped to my feet immediately and flew out the door, taking the steps down two at a time, ignoring the searing torment filling my lungs. The broken rib rubbed against the inside of my chest, sending waves of blinding pain through my body, as I pressed on, but only made it to the bottom of the steps before having to stop to catch my breath. I held onto the rail of the steps for support and looked over to the stage, which seemed to be miles away from me. I called out to him again, but there was no response. 

Clutching at my side, I paused to wipe the sweat from my face and choke back the nauseating feeling building inside of my stomach. Standing there waiting for the pain to ease, I heard a crash of thunder reverberate inside the hall. The storm had finally come. The dim house lights that I had turned on flickered on and off, making it now even more difficult to see. I knew that I had to make it to Brock before the power went completely out and we would be shrouded in darkness. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I started to move forward again, down the center aisle, focused on the stage. The banner high above seemed to sway a bit, producing a sound like flapping wings as I drew nearer. Upon reaching the halfway point, I tensed up as another stitch of agony shot through my side, which almost brought me to my knees. I had to press on. I lowered my head, trying to center myself and my eyes focused on more smears of blood on the floor. They were a dull crimson color, much like the ones on the door handle, and were already dry. Seeing this, I gritted my teeth and started to walk again, the lights still flickering wildly around me. Only a few feet from the stage, they suddenly went off completely, leaving me in complete darkness. “Fuck!” I shouted. Not knowing what to do, I reached around, trying to find the steps to the stage and suddenly the lights turned back on again, only this time it wasn't the house lights, but just the lights that illuminated the backdrop and the stage itself, everything else was devoured in the darkness. I half ran, half limped my way up and slowly approached Brock. He was unconscious and wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans from the previous night, nothing on his feet or his chest. All I could focus on was the bright crimson splashes of blood that covered his torso. I dropped to my feet at his side and wrapped my arms around him, clutching his thin body next to mine, letting his head rest against my chest. “Oh Brock, I am so sorry for this, for all of this.” 

I felt his arm move slightly, reaching out for me and I grasped hold of it, looking down at him as his beautiful eyes opened up and he focused on me with some difficulty. “Dustin?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

“Yes, I'm here now, you're going to be alright.” I held him close to me for a few seconds, to reassure him of my presence. “We're going to get out of here.” 

He looked up at me with hazy, disorientated eyes, filled with fear that nearly broke my heart. I felt the unusual coldness of his body next to mine and pulled slightly away to discover several large, almost claw like gashes in the side of his body, starting at his chest and descending down to his hip. The were horrendous, hideous wounds, crudely sliced open and exposing muscle and bone underneath. Realization dawned on me that if I didn't get him out of here soon, that he'd surely bleed to death. I grasped his hand tightly. “Brock, listen to me. I am going to take care of you, just hold on... we can do this.” I brought the back of his hand to my lips and kissed it. “I have to find something to stop the bleeding first, then we're going to get the fuck out of here.” I gently propped his body up against the bass drum, noticing how sinister the band logo looked, all covered with blood, before turning away, trying to keep my emotions at bay and focus on the task at hand. 

Making my way to the side of the stage, where the roadies kept their gear, I was relieved to find a flashlight, and rushed backstage, totally forgetting about the pain in my ribs and kicked the door to the medical room open. Yanking the doors and cabinets open, I frantically searched for the supplies I needed, and shoved them into a bag with haste and headed back out. Sprinting down the hall which led to the main stage, the flashlight flickered and went out, leaving me in darkness. “Shit!” I cursed and hit it against the palm of my hand, trying to make it work again. To my shock, it worked, sputtering into life and illuminating the corridor. I aimed it back in front of me and let out a loud, startled cry. There standing in front of me was the dark, shadowy figure of the monster, it's faceless shape blocking my path back to the stage. The shadows swirled around it, filling the small space with a obscene, almost sickening presence. “no....” I whispered. There was no other way to go around it, it was blocking the path between me and Brock. It didn't speak, it didn't move, it remained stationary, nothing but those damn shadows pulsing, churning around it. I felt defeated. I clutched onto the fabric of the bag, desperately holding onto it. The light from the flashlight dimmed a bit, I looked down to my trembling, shaking hands and saw the blood, Brock's blood staining them. I took a breath and closed my eyes for a moment. “No.” I repeated, this time with more force. As I opened them again, I was relieved to see that it was gone. Had I willed it away? How was that possible? Shining the light towards the door, I thought I saw wisps of darkness skittering away from the light, snaking around the edges and cracks in the walls, to disappear. I walked right by them, feeling the icy coldness brush over my ankles and went back to Brock. 

His breathing was very shallow by the time that I reached him. Sitting down next to him, I moved slightly and was immediately crippled by the pain in my ribs, I realized that if I had to get him on his feet, there was no way that I would be able to carry him out of here. Ripping open the bag, I found the butterfly skin tabs and started to pinch the gaping wounds closed as best as I could. The adhesive gripped hold of the ripped flesh perfectly, drawing the edges together and stopping the bleeding. As I worked, I could see Brock's eyes fluttering slightly while unconscious. I had brought him so much pain in the last year, that I couldn't imagine him ever forgiving me. Brock was such a good, kind-hearted person that I often wondered what he saw that drew him to me. Where he was always bright and positive, staying on track no matter what, I was often withdrawn and depressed, easily swayed and distracted from the important things. The events that happened with Ben had changed us, and I had considered what my life would be like, had I never made the deal with him at all. The part that stood out the most was that if it never happened, Brock wouldn't be laying on the floor right now, on deaths door, but in the same way of thinking, had it never happened, I would of never known that Brock had feelings for me at all. He was always so silent, when it came to things like that, which I hated and loved at the same time. I unknowingly tore him apart by having feelings towards Ben, but Brock always stood firm and resolute in his feelings, knowing that what be believed in was stronger than anything, and that was his love for me. 

As I placed the last of the strips over his open wounds, I once again wiped away the beads of perspiration from my forehead. I was dripping with sweat. Fumbling through the medical bag, I found some large rolls of gauze and wrapped them around Brock's torso. I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing a bit of color returning to his skin and his breathing becoming more steady. The storm outside was intensifying, and I could now hear the thunder booming loudly overhead, threatening to shake the venue right off it's foundation. I took a moment and stood up, clutching at my side and gazing into the vast hall around me. It was beautifully macabre with the wide open empty space, so different than the view I had last night. I walked up to the edge of the stage and closed my eyes for a moment, hearing the cheers of the crowd, and the feel of the music as it flowed all around me. Looking to my right was Ron with his bass, climbing up onto the small table we kept on the stage and then jumping off it in time to the beat of the music, keeping in perfect timing with Adam shredding the drums directly behind me. To my left was Brock, trained and concentrating on getting all of his chords and riffs just right, a perfectionist at heart. This was my band, these were my friends. I would do anything to protect them. My admiration was momentarily cut short as the lights on the stage started to flicker, and an unfriendly, familiar feeling started to surround me. I knew that it was time to leave. Ben had warned me that this was a trap, and now I believed him. 

I rushed over to where Brock was still laying, blissfully unconscious and was about to try and rouse him when I saw the first wisps of shadows creep over the stage. They moved quickly and chilled the air, causing the temperature to drop dramatically around me. I could see my breath crystallize in the air and every single nerve in my body was on edge. I watched as those shadows accumulated on the stage, twisting, turning and massing into the imposing figure of the Monster standing a few feet away from me. For the first time, I could see it clearly now, a imposing figure draped from head to foot in long, shredded flowing black robes. It's hands were bent and twisted into the form of razor sharp claws that stuck out from beneath it's sleeves like gnarled tree branches. It's head was cloaked in the same disheveled fabric that hid it's face well. I stepped forward, and stared it down. I was tired of being chased, tired of all the hallucinations and tired of hurting others. I wanted it to be over. I lifted my head. “What do you want?” I asked boldly.

The figure slowly lifted one of it's hands, the shadows dripping off it like a thick oil stain and pointed at me. I felt a sharp pain shoot through my heart, almost as if it had punctured my chest with it's bony fingers. I clutched at my chest, trying to catch my breath. Ben was right, this Monster was only after one thing, and that was my soul. I was prepared to give it up so long ago to stay with Ben, forever, but when Brock intervened and confessed his love for me, Ben chose to sacrifice his own soul for mine, so that I could live on. I thought about him now, and how this creature had found a way to bring him back to manipulate me into handing it over again, and the inner turmoil he must of felt deep inside knowing that his entire existence then was to try and trick me. In the end though, Ben made the right decision. I didn't know what was going to happen to him, and part of me didn't want to know either. Now it was my turn to make the right decision. Was I truly ready to give up what Ben had given to me, so that I could save another? 

Behind me, I heard Brock stir and I turned around to see him still leaning on the drums, looking haggard and pallid. The gauze I had wrapped around his torso was now starting to show signs of the blood seeping through from beneath. The temporary strips were not enough to keep the wounds closed. I turned back towards the creature. “If I choose to go with you, hand over my soul as you so desperately want, then you have to assure me that Brock will get out of here, and will survive those wounds. I know that you can do it too, I've seen proof first hand.” The Monster remained motionless, it's finger still pointing at me. “PROMISE ME!” I shouted, with a loud crack of thunder booming off in the distance, mocking my tone. Still the creature did not move. I heard Brock behind me, but did not turn around.

“Dustin...” 

“Listen here, you son of a bitch. I don't know why you want my god dam soul so much, it's not worth anything. You obviously don't know who I am. I am the asshole who would stop at nothing to get success.” I felt the anger rising inside of me, forming faster than I could of imagined. “I am the one who wanted it so badly that I called a fucking demon to me, just so that we could be famous! And then I used him, I tricked him into thinking that he had fallen in love with me, and he sacrificed himself, getting me out of the deal. I am the kind of person who finds a way into your life and then takes hold, getting everything that I can out of you, making you love me until it hurts and then just walking away when there's nothing left to give. If you don't believe me, if you don't believe that's the kind of person, I am, then just look look at him, look at what I've done. It's all my fault. My soul is already gone, there's nothing left but an empty shell, so go ahead and take it, do what you want with it, you have my permission... but you aren't fucking touching it until Brock gets out of here. Do you understand that?”

“Dustin...stop!” I heard Brock calling me, I glanced back and saw that he had pulled himself into a sitting position, barely conscious and coherent, but so desperately trying to get my attention with every bit of strength that he had. 

“It has to be this way, Brock. I won't let another person suffer on my behalf, ever again. I have to stand up and face this thing, I have to face what it's turned me into.” I turned back away from him and faced the dark figure before me. “No one knows what it feels like to suffer in silence, inside of my head day after day, wondering if the things I am seeing are real, or if they are hallucinations. And do you want to know what the worst part of it all is? The worst part is when those hallucinations welcome you and comfort you, more so than reality does. After a while you want everything and everyone to go away and sink down into those visions, let them carry you away and never look back, because you can't stand to see the look of disappointment in the eyes of your friends when you let them down. When someone tells you that they love you, and you can't fucking tell them back because you're more in love with yourself than anything else.” I stopped, hearing my own voice echo so loudly made my head start to hurt. 

The thunder outside the auditorium rolled high overhead, and with the exception of the sound of my own breathing, there were no other audible noises around us. An eerie silence descended. The Monster slowly lowered it's arm and motioned for me to step closer. I knew that things would never be the same after this night, not just for me, but for the rest of the band as well. The Monster reached it's gnarled arm out for me. Off in the distance, I heard Brock moan, whether disapprovingly or in pain, I wasn't sure, I couldn't tear my eyes away from this thing before me. I was doing this for Brock, for all of them. Taking a breath, I waited patiently as it reached out, stretching it's arm and unnatural length and hovered it just above my heart. I had to atone for everything that I had done to them. This was the only way. I closed my eyes and whispered. “Goodbye Brock.” 

I heard a loud pop, and then all the house lights abruptly shut off, I opened my eyes to complete darkness. I moved slightly, coming to stand in front of where I knew the Emulator was, when it suddenly turned on, instantly booting up and all the windows started to load at once. I watched it in dim fascination for a moment, noticing how beautiful and radiant the vibrant colors looked in the completely black void. 

Several moments passed, and I called out to him. “Brock, Brock, Jesus Christ, answer me, are you alright?” I heard a soft muffled sound and then his labored breathing, he was still alive. 

“Dustin, please... stop this.” he begged, his voice just only slightly above a whisper and filled with such pain. 

The thunder boomed once again over head and I moved to where the sound of his voice was. “I am going to end this, Brock I promise you, just stay with me. Hang in there.” 

I felt something cold wrap around my ankles and surround my body. I stood completely still in the darkness and waited, feeling it pitch and shift up my legs and over my torso, chilling me right down to the bone. I could feel icy fingertips touching my cheek and I trembled with fear. “Listen to me you sick fuck, let's be over and done with this. I am tired of your games, you can have anything you want, show yourself!” I demanded. 

The emulator erupted with a blast of static and sound. I covered my ears for a moment, and then heard the most frightening voice I have ever heard in my life. It was a mixture of white noise and electronic garbled noises, fused together with something demonic that sounded like it crawled out from another dimension, it sent shivers down my spine. “Finally.” It hissed. “The end? Is this what you truly want?”

“Yes!” I shouted into the darkness. “I can't take anymore. Let's be done with it.”  
The lights turned off, leaving us in an eerie darkness. Other than the storm outside, there were absolutely no sounds to be heard, save for the beating of my own heart. Listening intently, I heard that familiar voice inside of my head. It reverberated around inside my skull with a radio static sound, bouncing off the bone and brain with a painful, agonizing force.

“The chapter has come to an end, are you truly ready for this story to be complete?” It asked.

“Enough! I want you out of my head, take whatever it is that you’ve come here for and leave. I am tired of games.” I shouted. 

The static voice became slightly louder. “Are you truly finished?” It asked.

I took a deep breath, feeling something injecting itself into my veins. “Why do you keep asking the same questions over and over? Is this amusing to you? I told you...YES!” I screamed out into the darkness. 

The Monster snickered and slithered around in triumph. “Very well.” I felt a sudden chill run down my spine, and suddenly I was no longer able to move, or speak. It was as though something had taken over my body, I felt heavy and disorientated, and then everything went black.  
“Dustin?” A voice called to me. It seemed so far away. I couldn’t quite reach it. No static. Clear. Human. I knew this voice. 

The house lights came up slowly and I turned around to face the Emulator. 

“Dustin?” I could hear Brock behind me, forcing himself to his feet. I remained motionless, staring at all the beautiful, iridescent colors of the glowing panel in front of me; it was beautiful almost like I was looking at it for the first time. I reached out and ran my fingers down the glass screen. I felt his hand on my shoulder, but I did not turn around. “Hey, are you okay now? Can we go; I’m not feeling so well.” 

Reaching up, I pulled my glasses off, noticing the faint traces of blood on the frames. I tossed them away in disgust, hearing the glass shatter. I turned to face Brock, who was clutching at his bandaged side and while trying to support himself against me and smiled. He looked so fragile and delicate. Placing a hand alongside of his cheek, he leaned his head into the palm of my hand and closed his eyes for a moment, filling up with tears. “I want to go home.” He whispered. I wiped his tears away gently with my thumb. I placed am arm over his hip, pulling his body closer to mine. Gently, he rested his bloody hand over mine, and let out a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d save me, Dustin.” 

Still disorientated, I gazed at him, trying to bring my eyes into focus. My body felt like it had been asleep for a long time, numb and cold. “Brock?” I asked, trying to keep the tone in my voice stable. Inside of my head, a door slammed shut and was bolted up tightly. I straightened up my back and felt a wide smile slowly inching its way across my face. “This is who I am, who I should be.”  
Brock looked at me quizzically, his hand moving down from over mine to over my wrist with a bit of apprehension. “What? I don’t understand.” He asked.

I gave him a tender smile, like one you’d give to a child when explaining something, and slipped my hand around the back of his neck. I could feel his heartbeat start to accelerate. “He did a whole lot of squirming and screaming around, but in the end, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore, and all I had to do was ask and he was more than willing to accept his fate.”

The expression on his face started to change from confusion to fear. “What are you going on about? Did you hit your head somewhere along the line, because you’re talking nonsense? Can’t you see that we need to get out of here?“ Brock pleaded.

“Well, one of us will.” I laughed and squeezed him by the back of the neck, pulling my arm back and then tossing his body across the stage where it collided with a thump against one of the monitors. It made such a delightful crunching sound. Smiling in delight, I tilted my head and watched him moan in agony, stunned and in pain from the impact of the heavy cabinet on his back. I started walking over to him, my footsteps echoing on the flimsy stage. “In my defense, I never put a hand on him. I swear. Every single choice that he made was his own.”

Brock forced himself up to a partial standing position, glaring at me. “No, this isn’t right. Dustin would never do these awful things, you’re just the Monster that possessed him, and he can fight you. Cast you out and be rid of you once and for all.”

“Oh you gullible man, haven’t you figured it out yet? There was never a ‘Monster’. Every hallucination, every bit of delusion he created himself, well… with your help of course. I am nothing more than the embodiment of emotions that he could not control.” As I spoke, Brock finally managed to make his way to his feet and tried in vain to scurry away, but being the wounded animal that he was, he was no match for me. Within seconds I made my way over to him and grabbed his arm as he turned away, whipping him back to face me again, and traced a finger down his chest, letting my nail drag painfully into his flesh. “Can you imagine how utterly terrible it must have been to have all that agony, hate and lust building up inside of you for ages, just letting it sit and fester its way out?”

Brock’s eyes flashed with intense defiance. “That’s not how he is.”

“Was.” I corrected. “That’s how he WAS. He took the coward’s way out.” I could tell by the look on his face that I hit a nerve. He glared at me, and stared me down in defiance and I laughed, right in his face. “Those wounds on your side are from his hands. I did nothing but sit back and watch last night, biding my time as he sliced into you with such loving agony, and you couldn’t see anything because it was too dark, all you knew was that it was someone attacking you and dragging you away before you passed out from shock. It was one he was scared to of death of… Dustin’s Monster. Or more realistically, Dustin. Me. I did it. We're the same person. And I loved every single moment of it too. The feeling of my hands all over your soft body, digging into the flesh and feeling it rip so easily, the blood pouring out of you like a river was so satisfying. It made me so hard, I could have fucked your comatose ass right then and there, but I didn't because I wanted him to be here, to see and feel everything.”

“You son of a bitch!” Brock cursed and lunged at me. It was a little odd and strange to hear him utter profanities, but it was enjoyable. It didn’t take much to make him reach the edge, a bit more and I could topple him, crush his spirit completely. It was such a delightful game. Completely obliterating his very being was such a delightful thrill for me. Still having hold of his arm, I twisted it around his back and held it there at an unnatural angle as he screamed out in pain. I pulled him back against me and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling on it and forcing his head back. The line of his throat and neck arched back in the dim light was an exquisite sight, the flesh so paper thin and fine that all it would take is one small slice, a light touch with a razor and it would split open, spill whatever blood he still have left inside of him all over the stage floor. The thought of holding this fragile thing in my arms as the light faded from those beautiful eyes was more than enough to excite and entice me. “Can you feel it?” I whispered, letting my lips run over his earlobe. “Do you feel how wonderful it is to give into these feelings and succumb to every single ounce of pleasure in desire that lurks deep down inside of your body?”

“Let me go!” Brock shouted.

In reply, I clutched onto him tighter, pulling his body back so that he was flush against me. He had nowhere to go and not enough strength to fight. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted for so long Brock?” I let my hand drift down from his chest to the front of his pants. I could feel his body immediately tense and tighten up. “This has been your desire for so long, hasn’t it?” I flicked my finger and popped open the front button of his jeans, and they dropped easily to the floor. “Sure, you’ve been screwed by Dustin before, but that was just domestic, romantic, and docile. You want more, you thirst for it.” I grabbed his balls, and gave them a squeeze, letting him feel the sharp sting of my fingertips pressing into the sensitive flesh. The chill air from the auditorium made him shiver and shake. Holding his trembling, pale, naked body before me, I leaned forward and licked the side of his cheek, the taste of sweat, tears and fear was unbelievable. Aren’t you enjoying this Brock?” I asked, with a tone of whimsy in my voice. “Feeling helpless and being totally dominated by the person that you love? It’s a splendid sensation isn’t it? Knowing that any minute, you’re going to get fucked, but you don’t know when…or how hard?”

“Go to hell!” He shouted and shot his elbow backwards. It instantly collided with my body, and a blinding bolt of pain shot through me as he hit the broken ribs in my side and knocked me temporarily out of breath. Seeing the chance for his escape, he lunged forward and started to run, but in the dim light of the stage, he failed to notice a pile of cables and cords tossed carelessly in the corner. I calmly took a moment to catch my breath, and watched with a grin of delight as his escape plan failed, and the cords caught and tangled around his feet, causing him to pitch forward and crash down to the floor. The sound of his body hitting the stage was so deafening that it even drown out the sound of thunder still rolling overhead. 

I made my way over to him, taking my time to where he lay, out of breath and defeated. “I have to admire you for being so defiant, Brock. I would expect nothing less from you. However, this game is over, and you have just used your last turn, it’s mine now.” Snarling and filled with anger, I landed a kick to his stomach, feeling my foot meet with soft tissue; it dropped him back to the floor almost immediately; doubling over in severe pain. I knew that my well placed blow had ruptured some internal organs; it was quite an enjoyable sensation. 

I ran my hand through my hair, shook my head, looking down at him laying in a heap at my feet in disdain. “Why do you even try to resist? You should know by now I am not going to let you leave here.”

He lifted his head up and looked at me, wiping away blood from his lips. “Dustin, you have to stop this. I know part of you is still in there.” I watched in astonishment as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet, staggering and unstable, using the Emulator to keep from falling over. “Fight it.”

Seeing him there, naked and bathed in the glow from the lights was like nothing I had ever seen before. His entire body, even still covered in blood was beautiful and soft, looking almost angelic. I felt some of the anger inside of me start to melt away as I paced around to the opposite side of the board. “Don’t you see, Brock... There’s nothing to fight. Think of your own words, you have been the one trying to convince me for so long that it’s all inside of my head.” I came to a stop, standing behind him, and whispered, just a few inches away from his face. “…and you were right. It was. Tell me how it feels to know you’ve done this to your best friend, your confidant, your lover? Hmm. Tell me how sorry you are, or maybe…you’re not.” I started my pace again. “None of it was real, and you single handedly managed to make it convincing…except for this.” Reaching out, I touched his trembling arm. “This is what is real, all the inhibitions and darkness inside, brought to the surface and released, made flesh.” He was now shivering uncontrollably, probably going into shock. He wouldn’t last much longer. I continued to move again, this time letting my fingers run up his arm as I did my second lap around him, once again, stopping behind him, and brought my fingers over his shoulder and down over his spine. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asked flatly.

“You are the remaining thing that stands in my way. The last vestige of innocence, the release of responsibility, the liability of love. In ending you, I will be complete. A whole man once again, no longer fighting with his inner demons. You understand, don’t you?”

“I won’t let you.” Brock’s eyes began to tear up “I love you Dustin. I am the only one who has ever loved you, can’t you see that. If killing me will turn you into this Monster forever, then there’s no fucking way I am going to let it happen.” 

I sneered and pushed him forcibly against the front of the Emulator. A flash of memory suddenly rushed through my head, something similar. What was it? Someone inside my head. Black feathers. I couldn’t remember. I chose to ignore it. “You silly boy, you still don’t understand.” My hands gripped at the blood soaked bandages wrapped around his wounds and I yanked them off, he screamed out in pain as the scabs that had started to form were ripped off along with the cloth. The beautiful stream of crimson began to run down his side again. It sparkled and shone in the dim light like a river of rubies. I reached down and clutched at the torn up tendrils of flesh, digging my nails into the meaty chunks of skin, his body wavered and Brock almost fell to his knees, but I caught him and threw him up against the Emulator. I saw him glare at me, barely conscious, the pain from the newly opened wounds as almost too much. Almost. Something familiar flicked in my memory, the black feathers all around me. I shoved it away and shouted. “You made me this! You’re not as innocent and selfless as everyone thinks. Convincing your best friend that he’s going insane, repeating it over and over until he hears it enough that it’s all there is to believe? Well that’s almost the same as murdering him, so don’t play the virtuous saint here.” Unbuckling my pants, I slipped them down, and I heard him mutter something. I grabbed a handful of his hair again and pulled his head back, watching his eyes flutter. “Did you say something?” 

Brock swallowed hard, his breathing became shallow. The internal injuries were catching up to him quickly. “….fight it, Dustin.”

Furious and frantic I pushed him forward with such force that I heard his head smash against the glass and a spider web of lines start to form. He stayed there, lifeless and blood trickled down the malfunctioning unit. A slice of pain knifed it’s way through my head at the same time. In a flash of memory, I saw myself there and felt the pain of the glass breaking and hearing the electronic buzz of the Emulator in my ears. Thousands of black feathers rained down around me, blurring my vision. 

I found myself sitting on the floor, just below the Emulator and felt a warmth spreading down over my face. I reached up and gingerly touched a painful spot just below my hairline. My fingers came away bloody. Confused, I stared at them dully, not quite understanding what was going on. Then I heard footsteps and looked up, and gasped for breath seeing Ben standing over me. “This is a memory.” I whispered.

“Yes it is.” he answered gazing down at me intensely with those gray-green eyes. “A memory with a warning, Dustin.”

I started to laugh and rested my head back against the cool metal behind me. “What could you possibly warn me about Benjamin? Huh? I am pretty much a fucked up individual now, right?” I narrowed my eyes and glared at him menacingly. “Is it about the ‘monster’? The big bad that’s going to devour my soul? Is that it? I think you’re a bit late, I've already met him and we're becoming quite good friends. Oh by the way, how's your soul doing? Burning in Hell I hope.”

He gave me a very soft, sympathetic look and knelt down beside me, coming to look me right in the eyes, and speaking in a soothing, comforting tone. “You bought me here, you can stop this if you want. It’s not over yet. There is still something inside of you that is good, all you need to do is find that door and unlock it. This is how you beat it. Only you can do it.” 

Hearing his words, filled with an unexpected compassion abruptly caught me off guard, and for a moment, all I wanted to do was be there near him, with his arms wrapped around me and cry into his chest. I stared down at my blood stained fingertips and choked down the churning emotions inside of me. “I am not going to stop, because I want this, I welcome it. I don’t need you, or anyone else. I am better now that I have ever been. Let me show you. ” I leaned forward, bringing my face close to his, concentrating on those luscious pink lips and placed a savage, lustful kiss there. I felt him try to pull away, but at this moment, I was stronger than him, and I held him in place. I beamed with arrogant pride. “You’re dead Ben. Accept it.” I whispered and pulled away. 

The kiss between us was the ultimate betrayal. Ben's eyes were filled with a sheer disappointment. He whispered, “Even as Jesus forgave Judas, I will forgive you, Dustin.” The falling feathers disintegrated into thin particles of dust all around me and vanished into nothingness, along with Ben, and I found myself still clutching Brock’s prone body up against the Emulator. I looked over his shoulder to see that he had regained consciousness and those beautiful eyes were looking away from me, set on something in the distance. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the dirt and blood, giving him a ghastly, disheveled appearance. The blue bruises were already showing against the bone white color of his skin, which gave off a unpleasant dull glow in the weak light. “Still with me?” I asked, drawing his attention away from the unseen target he was focusing on. 

He moved his head slightly. “I am with you forever, Dustin.” He whispered. 

My heart ached and felt very heavy. His thin body offered no resistance. He was broken and defeated, nothing more than a empty shell, shattered and useless. Muscles in his chest made his heart pump blood, his brain still functioned, but he was mentally done. I took this shining star and made it go super nova, exploding into nothingness. His light was gone. A bad taste invaded my mouth, like an acid starting to eat away at me from the inside. I shook my head and tried to make it go away. “Do you still believe that I can be saved? You're pathetic. Let me tell you something, Brock... after I fuck you, and leave you here bleeding to death, I am going to walk out that door there, and find your friends, Adam and Ron. I am sure that they are just waiting for me... it won't be hard to find them... and once I do, I am going to rip them apart too. Why you ask? Because there's nothing more satisfying than destroying a person's whole world that he's worked so hard to build from the ground up.” I paused my monologue and gave it a bit of thought. “Well there is one thing better than that. Shall we see how they compare?”

Sliding my bloodstained hand along my throbbing shaft, I forced Brock’s legs apart and he moaned and whimpered, his lips covered with saliva and blood. With one hand, I held up his body against the Emulator, which had only a feeble glimmer of light left to it, much like the person laying on top of it, while I gripped my hard cock and guided it into him, shoving with as much force as I could. Brock let out a scream with every ounce of life left in him that shattered the silence with agonizing suffering as I forcibly penetrated him. Plunging deep inside, it felt wonderful and terrible at the same time. With only the quickly drying blood as lubrication, I had to force my way deeper in, showing no mercy or hesitation, only thinking of the euphoric sensation radiating through my body, tearing through tissue and muscle alike. I thrust further into him, exploring the depths with every movement of my hips, forcing, ripping, and grinding my way into the tightness that surrounded my engorged shaft. His body was hot and feverish, shaking with each touch as I delved deeper, enjoying the exquisite sensation of the dense muscles that trembled around me, but I wanted more. Letting go of the upper part of his body, I gripped his hips, my fingers finding his protruding hip bones, pressing into them with hard force and quickened my pace, determined to make him take every single inch of me that I could. I needed to feel him all around me, consuming me, taking all I had. I would break this fragile vessel if I had to. With feeble hands, he reached up and grabbed hold of the top of the Emulator screen, half trying to pull himself away from me, half trying to keep himself on his feet. The effort was in vain. It was a feeble attempt. I could see his fingers turn white and his knuckles bend painfully, trying as hard as he could to hold on as he screamed out in pain and agony. Those screams only heightened my lust, and I pushed further into him, letting him take the full length of my cock, my balls smacking harshly against his buttock cheeks with each movement. His eyes were closed and he had stopped crying, only faint traces of where his tears remained. The blood rushing to my cock was intense and extreme. The pressure building as I repeatedly penetrated his broken body intensified with each thrust, as I pounded into him harder and harder, amazed at how much he could actually withstand. I was tearing him apart from the inside out, on more ways than one, just to satisfy my torrid lust. It wasn't enough, I had to go faster, harder, bend and shatter him so that I could feel alive. Already I could feel the pressure intensify, threatening to explode inside of him. I fought to prolong the moment, I wanted him to suffer as long as he could so that I could thoroughly enjoy myself, it would probably kill him. Just the thought of it renewed me to fuck him even harder. My body was covered in sweat and blood, still I pressed on, ignoring the screaming that started again. We both knew they would be the last breaths he would ever take. The flesh underneath my fingers where I held him was already starting to turn color, matching the hours of old bruises I had inflicted on him earlier. Still through everything, his heart still beat, he held on. I wondered what could possibly be keeping him alive. 

Almost as if reading my mind, Brock’s hand slipped down away from the edge of the monitor and reached out for mine. As the tremors tore through him, he pulled my hand away from his hip and laced his fingers together with mine. With one tender touch, a wave of emotions flooded over me, an intense collection of memories of the years we had spent together as friends, hanging out, laughing, playing music and dreaming of becoming famous. I felt as though I was drowning and it became hard to breathe. “No!” I shouted and pulled away from him, holding my hands to my head, causing his body to drop down to the floor. I turned around and kept my back to him.

“I know you’re still there, Dustin.” He spoke feebly, his voice barely a whisper. 

Trying to calm myself and sort out my thoughts, I shouted. “Stop saying that.” 

I turned back around to face him. He was on his back, looking off to the distance again. Moments of silence passed between us. A decision was made, I couldn't bare to listen to his incessant whining and moaning anymore. I was going to give him mercy. I would end his horrid suffering. I walked over to him and he looked up at me with soft eyes as I bent down beside him. “One last chance, Dustin. Don’t let it take away everything you are.” He took hold of my hand, his warm skin almost setting mine on fire and turned my palm upwards, placing my glasses in it. A tear ran down my cheek. I looked at him, looking at the damage I had caused and had to look away, the feelings of guilt overcoming me. With shaking hands, I unfolded the arms of the glasses and placed them on my face. One of the lenses had been broken, but even so, I could see more clearly now out of it than I ever had before. 

“Brock…” I sobbed, the emotion overcoming me. He reached out and pulled me into his arms, and I rested my forehead against his. There was so much blood everywhere. Our eyes met, and a moment of serenity passed between us. I leaned into him and dropped my lips over his, kissing him with great care, and as they met, he whispered to me.

“I love you, Dustin.” 

That would be the last breath he would ever take. As the final word passed his lips, I brought a hand up and wrapped it around his neck, and started to squeeze, pushing his body back onto the floor. He didn't make a sound or struggle. I kept my lips pressed against his firmly as I tightened my grip and felt him gasping for air. Each breath trapped in his lungs became more painful, as I continued to cut off his oxygen. I saw the light start to fade out of those beautiful eyes, and it was truly something to behold. Knowing that I had the power and strength inside of me to totally destroy something so beautiful and innocent was an intoxicating feeling. The meager feelings of love, still fluttering around inside the cage of my head would now quickly die, taking along with it the last vestige of remorse and sympathy, and I'd be free of the trappings of conscience, all I had to do was take his life. 

It only took a few seconds, in his weakened state before his heart stopped and I dropped his lifeless body back down to the ground with a dull thump. I sat there on the stage floor with him, gazing down at him with pity for a few moments, before slowly rising to my feet. It wasn't pity for what I had done, but pity that he was so pathetic and gullible, choosing to believe in love over everything else. I took the glasses off my face and tossed them to the ground where they came to a rest next to him. Useless things. I shook my head and straightened out my clothing. “I told you that I'm not the same person anymore, Brock.” Turning away, I looked up to the entrance and my eyes caught sight of someone standing in the aisle. This is what Brock had been staring at, he knew someone was there.. but how could he see them? I squinted, but could only see the silhouette of a man, no details. I called out to him. “Who's there?”

“I warned you, Dustin. Several times, but I can clearly see that you chose to ignore me each and every time.”

I knew that voice, it had plagued me so many nights. I'd know it anywhere. “Benjamin?” I asked, calling out to the darkness. 

He snapped his fingers and the house lights came up, flooding the hall with a bright, almost blinding luminescence. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust, but I could tell that he was slowly walking down the center of the auditorium. Ben had stood there watching the whole scene unfold, between myself and Brock, and Brock had seen him... but how? “Are you pleased with what you've become?” he asked in a monotone voice that showed absolutely no emotion at all. 

“What I've become?” I laughed at him. “I don't even know what that is.”

Ben ascended the stairs and stood on the edge of the stage, keeping his distance from me. “Let me shine some light on the situation. For starters, you're a murderer, and a rapist.” His words seem to make me loose my confidence, and I felt as though I was coming through a drug induced stupor. I shook my head to try and clear it, and slowly all the events of the night started to come back to me. From the moment I entered the venue, shaking and frightened, until the last moment when I choked the life right out of Brock, I could see everything that I had done with vivid details and I felt the bile start to creep up into my throat. 

“This.. this can't be true.” I mumbled, looking down at my bloodstained hands. 

Ben simply stepped to the side and looked down. I followed his gaze down to where Brock lay at my feet, and I let out a cry. His body was not peacefully laying on the stage, in the sweet repose of slumber, but sprawled out in a miserable display of gore and horror. There were large, gaping wounds sliced into his skin, from his torso to his neck, obviously made with some dull object that ripped instead of sliced. His flesh was bruised and battered in multiple spots, with horrid patches of discoloration whispering a tale of severe torture. There was a look of sheer terror on his face, frozen forever in a state of perpetual panic, or perhaps betrayal. I dropped down to my knees and was met with a wave of pain from the broken ribs, shivering and shaking. “I did this...”

Walking forward, Ben came to stand near me, his boots crunching on bits of broken glass from the Emulator. “Yes you did. All along, the Monster has been you.”

I looked up at him with tears streaming down my face. “I don't understand, you said that it called you back and commanded you to trick me into giving up my soul.”

“It IS you, Dustin. You've had the power to do so.” He sighed and squatted down beside me. “Whatever you had going on inside of your head was enough to make you believe that I can come back, bring me to life, or so to speak, in an effort to save both of us from damnation. But there was something dark and twisted in there, lurking just out of reach and it curled up and burrowed into your mind, festering, seething, turning every single thought rancid and rabid. So, my return was laced with lies and manipulation, because you couldn't control it.” 

“And now, how are you here if you're only in my head?”

“I'm not here. You're still struggling, fighting with that thing inside. Can't you feel it in there, twisting and slithering through your head, waiting to crack your skull open at any second and send you away again? Maybe even this time forever? You brought me here to help you fight it, because you don't think you're strong enough. When you see me, you see a part of you that is better.” I looked down at Brock again, and quickly turned my head away, I couldn't face what I had done. 

Ben stood up and took a step away from me. I quickly rose to my feet lunging across the space between us and grabbed him by the front of the shirt, shaking him violently. “I'm not strong enough! You have to save me!” My bloody fingers wrapped around the soft fabric clutching desperately at his chest. “I can't do this alone.” He looked at me with pity and slowly pulled my fingers away. His hands were so cold, it was like holding onto icicles. “Save me Ben. Please.” I sobbed into the folds of his shirt.

Reaching down, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace. “Close your eyes, Dustin.” His soothing, calming voice rang out clearly in my ears, and I concentrated on it as hard as I could, trying my best to quell the raging thoughts inside of my head. “It's inside of you now, part of you, changing who you are. I can't tell you how to defeat it now, because I am nothing more than a piece of your head as well. I don't exist except inside of you. You've let the monster out of it's cage, and it needs to go back.” He pushed me away slightly and I felt his lips touch my forehead and I heard him whisper. “Open your eyes.”

I stood there on the edge of the stage alone, disconnected from everything in the world. All I could think about were his words, and the feeling of something slowly starting to scratch away at the wallpaper barrier lining my brain, waiting to get out. I lost everything in the world that had meaning to me, and the only thing that I had left was my soul, even though it was a wretched, twisted thing. I was vaguely aware of the doors to the venue opening again, and people rushing in. I heard shouting and yelling and then someone taking my hands and forcing them behind my back. Everything was moving in slow motion. They pulled me down off the stage, as a team rushed into take care of Brock. I wanted to turn around, to see him one last time... I couldn't do it. Yanking my arms, the police officers rushed me outside into the blinding midday sun. Squinting against the sudden burst of light, I saw the familiar faces of Adam and Ron step out of a car and try to make their way over to me, but were met with a stiff arm of my captors. I will never forget the look on their faces, their eyes staring at me, in disbelief and disappointment. There was so much shouting, and a loud ringing in my ears. I heard Adam shout “Brock! Where's Brock?” I met his eyes, only for a fraction of a second and something inside of me twisted my lips into a carnivorous smile of delight that I couldn't break. Adam lunged against his captors. “You son of a bitch!” 

I didn’t care. I felt cold and numb. The thing inside of my head dug in and curled up, watching the spectacle before it with great amusement with sleepy eyes. It was content to let me take the blame for all of this. I watched Adam struggle against the men holding him back, shouting at me with a intense, murderous rage on his face. Ron helped to hold him back, but he was looking at me in disbelief. I was totally disconnected from everything that was going on. They shoved me into the back of a waiting car, and I slumped backwards against the seat the moment my body was inside. I watched as the ambulance pulled up and the paramedics rushed into the venue with their stretcher and medical bags, moving in slow motion as they took the steps two at a time, hurrying to get inside the building. Adam and Ron quickly followed them. I was grateful that I didn’t have to see their faces anymore. I was laden with guilt and shame for what I had done, and I knew that they would be beyond reason now to hear any excuses, even if I could make excuses. They had placed so much in my hands, their very lives, and in the end, I failed them. Especially Brock. All he wanted was someone to love, but he just fell for the wrong person. The thing inside my head told him that he was the reason for my insanity, tried to place blame on him to rationalize what was going on, but as with everything else, that was a lie. He didn’t know the pain of not being able to distinguish the difference between reality and fantasy, all he could see is the last remnants of good inside of me; his eyes were blinded by innocence and caring. The Monster was my burden, my own inner demon that I just couldn’t escape from. Deep inside, I didn’t really want to. It was part of me, part of who I am, the part that everyone has but never acts upon because they have a conscience. It was there for me when I needed it most, forcing me into situations that were so beyond my control, that they would break me down into nothing. All I had to do was reach out, and it was there, hiding in the shadows of my mind, and let it take me over, completely overwhelming me in a cocoon of non-emotions and feelings. 

The car idled quietly amidst the loud calls of the gathering crowd, the driver waiting patiently for his chance to pull out in traffic, and I stared down dully at the silver bracelets on my wrists. The metal was cold and comforting, pressed tightly into my bloodstained hands. I knew that I’d never be able to wash that off my skin, the disgrace and shame of claiming a life would now be forever my burden to bear. I heard a commotion near the door to the venue and looked up to see Adam sprinting out and running down the steps to the car… I knew he had seen the body. Several onlookers grabbed his arms again, holding him back as I leaned my head against the plush seat and closed my eyes. Was he shouting something at me? I couldn’t hear. I was waiting for the Monster to come and take me again. Nothing. I felt empty and suddenly all alone. Did it get what it wanted and then abandon me? Would I be made to answer for what I had done? The only sound in my head was my own voice now, and I was terrified. 

I spent the next several days of my life drifting between a comatose state and indifference. I didn’t eat, and rarely drank. Being questioned over and over didn’t bother me at all. I did not answer their questions because I could not answer. There wasn’t anything I could say to them to make an excuse for what I had done. They were whispering to themselves, in between interrogations, saying that I had snapped, I was completely out of it, ‘mentally incompetent’. Saying that I was unwell was an understatement. Eventually they took me away to a psychiatric hospital for an evaluation. The doctors there ran tests of every kind, trying to get a response out of me, but all attempts were unsuccessful. I knew that there was something wrong with me that they couldn’t cure. 

I couldn't explain what was wrong with me either, but they finally found a label that fit. Schizophrenia was their eventual diagnosis. The day I was brought into the courtroom for the last time, they bound me in handcuffs and paraded me down the center aisle, past all the curious strangers and throngs of reporters. I tried to keep my gaze down, trained on the floor, not wanting to see their accusing faces, but as I passed the last row, I caught sight of Adam and Ron, dressed in formal suits and ties, watching me as I was led to my seat. I couldn’t read them at all. They felt like strangers. I saw Ron lean over and whisper something into Adam’s ear, and he nodded. I could only imagine what the words were that passed between them. 

Sitting in the plush seat, I was subjected to one final re-telling of the events that happened that night. I sat through it all, from start to finish, listening to their version of my apparent debauchery and murderous intent. I didn’t object to any of it, even though they completely destroyed my character, and put my life in ruin with lies. There wasn't much left to it anyway, so I didn't care. The lawyer appointed for me cited obvious mental issues as a defense. Clearly the jury agreed with it, any fool could see just by looking at me that I wasn’t well, and I was found not guilty by reason of insanity. When the verdict was read out loud, I remained motionless and uncaring, I could easily hear some sort of commotion behind me. It would be Adam, I knew it. The officers pulled me to my feet and grabbed my elbow, leading me back down the aisle and right past them. Ron looked sullen and saddened, but Adam still had fire in his eyes. If he could reach me, I had a feeling that he’d snap my neck in two as revenge for Brock. I could tell that the vengeance was eating him up on the inside. I offered no apology. It wasn’t Adam that I needed forgiveness from. 

The first night in my new home was a blissfully quiet one. Instead of being locked up in a jail, I was in a psychiatric hospital, where I would be interred until I could be deemed sane and quietly returned to the public. I knew that would probably never happen. I wouldn't let it They removed my handcuffs and gave me the standard issue uniform in a lovely shade of mint green and a dinner tray with a bottle of water. I sat on the edge of my bed, holding the folded up clothing on my lap and kept thinking of Brock. I deserved to be here because of what I had done to him. I wouldn’t allow myself the benefit of living a life when I took his away from him. This would be my physical and mental prison for the remainder of my years, and I was satisfied with that. 

The voice inside my head spoke. “Admitted defeat, have we?” It snickered. 

“No.” I replied into the darkened room. “It’s the opposite. I’ve won.”

It started to move slightly inside of my brain, waking up after weeks of slumber and spread its awful putrid essence through the fragile eggshell of my skull. “Do you think by locking me up in here, I can’t hurt anyone? You’re wrong. So wrong.” It reached out a talon and picked at a soft spot of flesh. A blinding pain shot through my head and down my spine. I let out a muffled cry. “The only person I want to hurt is right here with me now. I am going to slowly pick away at the gray matter of your brain, bit by bit, piece by piece… first taking away all those precious memories that you have stored away in here.. You know which ones I’m referring to, don’t you…” It hissed. “Brock was so beautiful and young wasn’t he? You loved how he looked in the shower, covered in water, arched over, begging for you to have him just so he could prove his love for you.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh did I hit a nerve? Maybe that wasn’t want you really wanted to see. How about when you tortured him, sliced into his skin, ripped his flesh apart and then fucked him like an animal?” Suddenly my head was filled with that horrible night, all the pain… all the blood… Brock screaming. Oh god… he was screaming so much. It all came back to me. I quickly stood up off the bed, dropping the clothing down to the floor and started pacing around the small room. “Remember how hard your cock was when you plunged it into him. He was so tight and unforgiving, he begged you to stop, but you just kept thrusting deeper and deeper into him. You positively ripped him apart from the inside out. Getting your dick buried in his asshole was so lovely, wasn't it? It felt so good not to worry about anything, give into these feelings and let yourself go. I can tell even now, you’re starting to get turned on by this… hell, you’d fuck his corpse if it was right here in front of you.”

“STOP IT!” I shouted.

It snickered. “And after I’ve broken you down with those memories, I am going to indulge myself with those hallucinations you enjoy so much again; making you see and feel things that aren’t really there, only to you they will be real… more real than you can ever imagine. I can bring you to the heights of pleasure and then drag you down into the bowels of hell itself. Eventually you won’t be able to tell reality from fantasy and will waste away to nothing but a hollowed out cadaver, sitting in the corner, foaming from your mouth and shitting yourself every day. You've fallen so far, and I've led the way, prancing down the path, leading you on. Oh this will be great fun indeed.”

I slowly made my way over to the door and rested my hand on the cold steel. “I am going to stop you.” I said flatly, a twitch in the corner of my eye. 

“You couldn’t stop yourself before when you were stuffing Brock. What makes you think that you’re going to be able to stop me now? Hmm? After all, I am you. I am the darkness, I am the Monster, I am Dustin Bates. I am the sick diseased part of your brain that controls you.”

The corners of my mouth upturned into a malicious smile. “See if you can control this, asshole.”

I lurched forward and slammed my head into the steel door, my forehead colliding with the metal in a vicious, violent powerful force that sent my head spinning. Only stunned for a moment, I hit it against the door again, harder this time and started to feel blood flow. The warm stream of liquid seeped down from my hair line and into my eyes, making it a bit difficult to see as I pounded my head against the door for a third, and fourth time. Then I started laughing. It was cathartic. The pain was something real that I could focus on, but like a junkie, I needed more of it. The world around me was spinning and pitching but I stood firm on my feet. I heard commotion outside in the hallway as the orderlies hurried with their keys, trying to get the door open. I continued to laugh as the thing inside of my head screamed out in agony and retreated back into the darkest part of my brain. Staggering, and nearly unconscious, I ran into the steel one last time, the pain so blinding and intense, it shut off every other emotion and feeling inside of me. 

The door burst open, and I fell backwards, coming to land flat on my back in the center of the room. My eyes hurt so badly, but I forced them to stay open, staring at the low ceiling above me. A warm pool of blood started to form under my head as I lay on the concrete floor. I saw the nurses rush in with a needle and the guards hold me down as she injected it, and the sweetness of nothingness claimed me. 

There’s something to be said about the wonders of modern day drugs. They can heal the body, force it into repairing itself and forming new tissue and antibodies, or they can do just the opposite, destroy and annihilate the nervous system, shut down brain function and leave a body in a comatose state. The latter is exactly what I was hoping for. In the months that followed since my public spectacle in the psych ward, I was kept on constant watch from morning to night, in a highly sedated and completely lethargic, sluggish state. Day or night, cold or warm, nothing mattered to me. Everything was gone, including the Monster. I lived in this place inside of my head where there was absolutely nothing, completely devoid of sound, like, feeling… everything, and I loved it. Forever could drag me down. I had nothing left to give. I had found my perfect end. I was nothing, anymore. 

Months passed. The dramatic story of the front man for the band going insane and killing his guitarist faded from the news. No longer were there whispers from the staff, gossiping about the cruelty and obscenities I had committed. There were no reporters sneaking in now, trying to catch a candid photo of the vegetative state I had put myself into. I was finally alone, and even though I was not completely at peace with myself, I was in a state of stasis, and I planned on staying there forever. 

It was the early evening, or at least I believed it was when I sat on a bench outside of the hospital, gazing up into the sea of stars when I felt a hand on my shoulder. The touch was not light and gentle, like one of the nurses who came out to fetch me, but instead it was heavier and stronger. The wind shifted a bit, and a slight breeze blew through the trees on the far side of the courtyard. A faint chill came with it, signaling a change of season soon. I shivered, and my mind suddenly came online. A panic ran through me. 

“And they’ve been saying you’re pretty much a vegetable. Must be a lie because I just saw you move.” I didn’t turn around or react, I knew the voice. It was Ron. 

He came to sit down next to me, and I saw him out of the corner of my eye, still looking the same, wearing the black flight jacket, a little more aged and worn, and jeans, with comfortable sneakers and a baseball cap backwards on his head, concealing his messy blond hair. “You’re looking ugh… good. Could use a shave, and a shower though, those nurses must get distracted when they give you a sponge bath.” Ron laughed awkwardly. He was always one to make jokes when he was uncomfortable. I could tell that his visit had an objective. “So things have been going ok. Putting in a lot of gym time and hiking trips when I am not messing around playing music. Been messing around with writing some new stuff, but nothing ever really pans out, but it passes the time, you know?” He kicked some dirt loose from the ground underneath his foot. Some other patients walked by us, and Ron hesitated, watching them as they returned back into the hospital. After they left, he inhaled and leaned forward slightly, cupping his hands together and holding them between his legs, his eyes darting around. “Dustin, listen…”

A silence fell over the courtyard. I continue to gaze up at the stars. This is where I was safe, nothing could get me, it can't find me here. 'Go away Ron, leave and do not return. If you stay here, it's going to find you, it's going to find me... for god sake.. run... run away.' 

“I don’t know what happened to you. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad. Everything that happened was just completely fucked up. I am not going to lie to you, I was really angry and upset with you, but it’s been a long time since this all happened and I’ve had time to think about it. I wish I had come to talk to you sooner, so much time has been wasted, but I wasn’t ready. Something happened that night that you’re not willing to talk about, I get that…but I don’t think that you’re to blame for Brock’s death. Adam completely flew off the handle that night in the hotel room, and it sort of snowballed from there. If we had just taken a moment and listened to you… maybe we wouldn’t be here in this situation right now. ” He took a breath and sat back, running his hands over his face. “What I am trying to say to you is that, I want to help fix this. I don’t want you to waste away in here with all the nutcases and lunatics drooling and staring up at the stars, eating pea puree everyday. You’re wasting your life. For Christ sake Dustin, you have a Ph. D and here you are, people feeding you and cleaning up after you. Stop punishing yourself. Please? I miss you.”

He looked up at me with his blue eyes searching for some sign of understanding. I couldn’t look away from that magnificent star field high over head. The first early evening stars were creeping out onto the stage of the sky. Each pin point of light sparkling with a bright luminescence of it’s own, sending it’s light down to the desolate planet below. The beauty was breathtaking and wondrous. I wanted to reach out and touch them, to feel them shatter and explode in my hand, sending a million particles of starlight slipping between my fingers like sand. 

Ron leaned to the side and rested his head against my shoulder. I could smell the scent of the cologne that he had splashed on his skin, feel the heat of his body next to mine. He stretched his arm out and placed a hand on my thigh, and I closed my eyes. Quietly, he whispered. “What do you see when you look up there, Dustin?”

A wave of uncertainty washed over me, when his fingers touched my body. It felt like someone had just shocked me with a EEG device, and it jump started my heart into a hyperactive state. I tried to force the feelings away, shove them back inside, but it was too late. I had shut myself down for so many months, trying to avoid contact with everyone, and I was doing so well, but now here I was, confronted for the first time with words that weakened my defenses, and I felt as though I was losing. Solitude was my constant rock, the anonymity of strangers and four unremarkable walls kept me safe, until now. What was it that let the doubt slip into my head? Could I just shut it away? 

“Starlight.” I replied.

I turned slowly to face him with a tear streaming down my cheek. “I see Starlight.” The barrier was broken and I was helpless to stop the wave of emotion that overcame me. I felt thankful and relieved, but yet so terrified and fearful of what was going to happen. 

After everyone else had gone inside for the evening, we sat out there under the stars, just the two of us, enjoying each others company. I confessed everything to him. From the start to finish without editing or falsifying facts. I told him everything, about Benjamin, about Brock, about the Monster. At first I was worried that he’d laugh it off and walk away, leaving me to my own fate… but something strange happened. Ron, normally the prankster of the group, the least serious, sat and listened to me. When I finally finished he looked at me and gave me a smile, and offered some reassuring words that made me feel like maybe..just maybe there was hope for me. 

“It's a bad thing, Dustin.” he said, pulling his jacket tighter around him to ward off the cool night air. “...to love someone so much that it clouds your thinking and better judgment. That kind of love really is very self-destructive.” 

I lowered my head and looked away. This conversation, I wasn't quite prepared for. I wanted to shut down. 

“All you need to do is find a way to harness those emotions, turn that energy around and use it for something else. I know you can do it too, you're so intelligent and brilliant. What is inside of you burns with the light of a thousand suns, but you choose to lock it away and let it build up until one day all that comes out in an explosion of anger.” Ron hesitated for a moment. “Let us, let me share some of that with you. Please.”

Eventually the orderlies came out to collect me, and Ron shooed them all away, explaining that he would be the one to escort me back to my room. I was greatly surprised by his tenacity. Everyone was astounded at my sudden break through, and willingness to talk. As we neared the door to my room, I stopped, just short of reaching for the handle and turned to him. “Ron, I don’t know what’s going to happen now.” 

“If you're looking to me for answers, I can’t tell you that everything is going to be OK Dustin. I’m not a psychiatrist , but I think you should know that I don’t think you need one. No matter what happens, I am going to be right here with you, helping you conquer the darkness. We’ve turned our backs on you, when you needed our help the most, and I am not going to let that happen again. Whatever this is, even if it is a part of you, it came from somewhere, and if you will just have a little faith, we can send it back.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed my glasses that he had concealed there, holding them out for me. The crack in one of the lenses had been carefully repaired, and the glass was polished and gleaming like new. My heart stopped for a moment, and he smiled at me. “I am ready to forgive you Dustin, if you can forget.”

Reaching for the glasses, I gingerly put them on, and felt a bit of my old self returning. Ron gave me a pat on the shoulder and a reassuring nod. “Get some sleep, real sleep... I'll be back tomorrow to see how things are going.” Turning away, he started heading down the hallway and waved, stopping near the exit. “Welcome back, Dustin.”

Inside of my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, thinking about his words. If Ron forgave me, if he truly wanted to help me through this and had faith in me, then maybe there was hope, something that I could draw upon for strength. I knew deep inside of me that I couldn't stay in this state forever, something would eventually break and I'd have to face my fears or die in here. Then there was another concern. He didn't mention Adam, and that was of some worry. We'd have to sort all that mess out and I wasn't looking forward to that confrontation either. The simple look of hatred on his face as they led me out of the courtroom was more than enough to keep me away from him, forever. Thinking of him brought a ache to the side of my body, and I placed my hand there where he had broken my ribs so many months ago. They had been healed in no time, but still the memory of the blows still lingered. Would he be willing to accept? I wasn't sure. Dealing with Ron was easy, but he would prove to be a little more difficult, but it was something I'd have to overcome if I wanted to go home. 

Then there was the matter of the Monster. I didn't know where it went, and that scared me more than anything. I tried to search for it inside my head, draw it out from it's hiding place, but there was nothing. It was silent. I couldn't even feel it's presence anymore. Once again, it was a glimmer of hope. Perhaps the months I had stashed myself away here, in a drug induced cocoon caused it to evaporate, leaving me with pure, unadulterated sanity. Yes, that had to be it. 

My nightly nurse came in to get me into bed, and was shocked to see me acknowledge her as she walked in. “Mr. Bates? Are you ok?”

I took off my glasses, holding them in my hand and glanced down at the lenses before me. My hand did not shake or tremble at all. I looked up to her. “Yes. For the first time in a long time, everything is going to be ok.” 

The nurse smiled at me and handed me some pills. I looked at the small paper cup with the drugs inside and thought about the road that I would soon have to travel. I knew that I wouldn't be able to travel it alone, I needed help, and I would graciously take it, in whatever form was offered to me. No longer would I keep things inside. 

After my nightly dose of meds, I slipped into bed, placing my glasses on the night stand next to me, and pulled the blankets up around my body. I wrapped myself in their comforting warmth and closed my eyes, trying to remember the sweet, tender sound of Ron's voice reassuring me. A change of heart had brought him here to me, tonight and I was very grateful. His smile brought me back from my dark place, and I now knew that our friendship was something very precious to me, I just always seem to overlook it before. I suddenly had a flashing memory of Brock, and I shuddered. Why now? What brought that up? I cast the thought aside and went to sleep. 

Within a few weeks, and countless hours of sessions with a therapist, and almost daily meetings with Ron, I was able to finally become more of what I used to be, a fully functioning member of society. Ron was the key to everything. When he came to see me, we would talk of everything from current events that he swore I needed to be caught up on, to scientific and space stuff, and of course, music. Our friendship blossomed and grew stronger as my mental state also did every single day. Eventually I was released, with the proper amount of mood altering legal substances and the promise of weekly meetings with the overpaid shrink, but at least I was out. The day Ron came and picked me up from the hospital, it felt wonderful to be driving with him, the windows open, music turned up. We talked about working on a new project, nothing too serious, just a little side project to pass the time, and about the state of current music, just idle chatter to get us through the drive. I felt as though I was now really living life again. As we approached the house, I started to become worried and withdrawn. He picked up on it almost instantly. “Dustin, is something bothering you? You've suddenly gotten very quiet.”

I looked out the window to the passing scenery. The seasons were changing from summer to fall, and everything was bathed in a warm sepia glow. “It's Adam. We haven't really talked about what happened and I don't know how....”

“Dustin, stop. Just stop. I told you that everything was going to be alright, and I haven't lied to you yet, have I? Stop worrying.” he shot me his best sunglasses smile and didn't miss a beat. 

Nodding, I sat back and tried my best to enjoy the rest of the ride home... Home... it had been so long since I was able to come back here, and I was trying my best to stay positive, but the idea of seeing Adam there, waiting for me, remembering the look in his eyes is what truly concerned me. Twenty minutes later we pulled up to the house, everything looked the same, except for a slightly unkept backyard and the unusual lack of beer cans laying strewn about. I slipped out of the car and walked up to the house, keeping a few paces behind Ron, who led me inside. 

He gestured to me. “Come on man, you know where you are, after all, this is still your house.” he laughed.

Adam was no where to be seen. I made my way around the house, and couldn't help but beaming with pride seeing that Ron had kept every single poster from our shows and had them framed. My bedroom was kept neat and tidy, in perfect, pristine condition. Even the music magazines that I had been reading were still carefully laid out on the desk, just waiting for me to return to them. The small music studio downstairs was still fully intact, with the small addition of a few more guitars and monitors that made it look like some sort of space station. I absolutely loved it. This is what 'home' felt like. I ran my fingers along the leather chair that I had spent so many hours in and remembered how great it was to 'feel' the music. I wanted to dive right in and start again. 

Making my way back up the stairs, I met up with Adam. He had just returned from a swim, and as he entered the living room, our eyes met. Ron gave him a casual hello and then made his way out to the kitchen, leaving the two of us alone. Part of me wanted to grab him and make him stay, sort of as a mediator, but I knew that I had to do this, I had to say my peace and be done with it. 

Adam was dripping wet, and stood near the door with a slight look of astonishment, clearly he had not expected me so early in the day. It was obvious that he knew I was coming home, Ron would have had to have talked to him about it, but judging from his expression, he wasn’t quite prepared for seeing me in the flesh. My memories went back to the last time I had seen him, in the courtroom, completely overwhelmed with anger. The pure animosity and hate was seething from deep within him, so much so that I never expected to be standing in a room with him ever again without being assaulted. I nervously shifted from one foot to the other, waiting patiently. Ron came back from the kitchen, toting a bowl of multi colored breakfast cereal with him, and passed between us, shoving a spoonful of the cereal into his mouth. “Oh hey Adam, good swim? By the way Dustin’s back.”

Adam looked to him and shook his head. He tossed the damp towel over a chair and headed for the kitchen. “Hey Dustin.” 

I stood there, motionless like a deer trapped in headlights. “Adam.” 

That was pretty much all there was to it for our meeting. He went his way and then I went my own. Nothing happened. I was safe. I said a quiet thank you to whatever gods were listening and then started to settle into my new life. Weeks passed, without incident. Ron and I became close friends, closer than we ever had before. We spent hours downstairs in the studio writing and playing new music. It felt good to have an outlet where I wasn’t being pressured. It was for fun, not profit. Eventually Adam started to come around a bit, dropping in during our jamming sessions, and then joining us. The days passed quickly. 

It was a cool late summer evening and we had decided to sit outside on the deck and jam for a while. Ron decided to retire early, citing drinking too much beer as a culprit, leaving me and Adam alone. He cracked open the last beer and offered it to me, a show of acceptance. I took it from him, not really wanting it, but also not wanting to refuse his offer. He came to lean against the wooden fence and cross his arms in front of his chest. Off in the distance behind him, I could hear the ocean crashing against the shore line, and the sky darken slightly with storm clouds. Rain was on the way. “About Brock....”

My heart sank. It was the conversation that I had been dreading for weeks. Part of me wanted to make an excuse and run away, but I knew that I had to stand my ground and be strong. The wind picked up a bit. I felt a few drops of rain hit me, as I took a long drink of the beer he had offered me. I wasn't going to let the weather be my excuse for running off and avoiding the topic. I needed to hear his thoughts to finally be able to put it all away, close the book and finish the chapter. 

“I miss him.” Adam said, looking off to the distance. He had startled me with those few, simple words. I was expecting something different, confrontational and accusing. Instead, I got a moment of pure emotion and honesty. I could breathe.

I lowered my head and stared at the beer in front of me, I couldn’t look at him. Not because of guilt, but because I was feeling the same thing too, but had been completely unable to put it into words up until now. “Me too.”

Walking over to me, Adam squeezed my shoulder and headed back into the house. “We lost him, but at least we got you back.” 

I looked up at him, and he gave me a soft smile as he pulled open the door to go inside. “Are you coming?” He asked.

Pulling my thread worn gray sweater tighter around my body, I shook my head. “No, I think I want to enjoy the air a little more before bed, it feels refreshing.” 

“Alright, but don’t stay out here too long, there is a storm coming.” Sliding the door closed, he went inside and I watched him turn down the lights, leaving me alone on the porch. 

I took a moment to consider his strangely relaxed attitude toward what happened. I expected a confrontation again, but was gratefully disappointed. Things really were starting to come back together. I rested my head against the outside wall of the house and watched the clouds start to form over the churning waters. The myriad shades of blue, green and teal were so beautiful, only occasionally interrupted by a puff of white dotting the horizon. Somewhere a few miles away I could hear a roll of thunder and see the dim flash of lightening. There was a faint crackling of electricity in the air that made my hair stand on end. I got up, deciding that the oncoming storm might be a bit on the dangerous side, and my eyes saw something down on the beach, and lingering just above it, some sort of warped distortion in the sky. The air seemed to be filled with a low electronic drone noise that vibrated my very bones. I felt my hair start to stand on end. A sense of dread overcame me. I squinted my eyes and tried to focus on what I was seeing.

My heart stopped for a moment. 

It was a figure dressed in all black robes, concealing his form from head to toe. 

no!  
No!  
NO!

“It can’t be…. It’s not…” I whimpered.

A voice inside my head, shattering my skull. “Come and See.”

Before I knew it, my feet where on the sand, and I was walking down to the beach, my eyes not wavering away from the sight in front of me. This was impossible. The wind was whipping madly around me now, and the thunder crashing loudly. I stopped in front of him, just a few feet of sand between us. Overhead, the air currents were distorted, and blurry, forming a triangular shape far above. Just seeing it made me physically ill. The skies opened up and it began to rain. It flooded down from the skies in torrents, getting in my eyes and making it hard to see in a matter of seconds. “I defeated you!” I shouted, over the pouring rain. “You have no power over me anymore! I’ve taken back every single thing that you’ve taken from me, my life is my own!”

The form twisted and contorted, flashed for a moment, sending out a threatening, vengeful vibe, but I did not retreat. 

I stepped forward, coming face to face with it. The droning noise was filling my ears. I was now standing it down, looking to the thing that caused me so much agony and grief and clutching my hands in defiance. I wasn’t backing down, I stood firm in resolute defiance. So many days, months, years, wasted because of this figment of my imagination. I was ready now to release it back into the void where it had come from. This was the moment I had been waiting for. Everything was leading up to this. I felt powerful, I felt strong. This was the moment of closure that I so desperately needed. No longer did it exist inside my head, whispering and controlling me… I was able to force it out, cast it away and give it physical manifestation of what was here standing before me, and I was ready to let it go. “I don’t need you anymore, so you can just crawl back into hell!!” A clap of thunder accentuated my words, giving them feeling and passion. I was in complete control of the situation for the first time.  
The only way I knew to send it away was to reveal what was underneath. After all this time of doubting myself, and trying to blame others for my actions, I was prepared to own up to them. All I had to do was one last thing. 

Reaching forward, I grabbed for the damp fabric concealing it’s face and yanked at the rotting material, pulling it away. The fabric was moldy and rotten, almost disintegrating in my hand as I yanked at it. Perhaps that it had become that way from all the time being shoved away inside my head, slowly rotting and breaking down to nothing. Almost as if dramatic cue, a bolt of lightening shot out of the sky behind us, hitting the ocean and lighting up the dark night with a undecipherable brilliance. I clutched at the soaking wet cloth with my wrinkled, waterlogged fingers and stared at the sight before me.

I was looking at Brock.

 

'...welcome back...'

 

Slowly I walked back to the house, my feet sinking deeply into the moist sand as the wind and rain pounded against my body. I was cold and shivering, completely unable to keep myself walking in a straight line. My sweater was soaked and heavy, feeling like a death shroud draped across my shoulders, still I pressed on. I staggered my way up the few stairs on the porch and stood in front of the large glass door. The warm, soft glow of the lights inside seemed so welcoming, and comforting. Instead of heading inside, I stood out in the rain, looking in with a sense of longing. Water got in my eyes, stinging them, sending tears down my cheeks, obscuring my vision. I trembled in the frigid wind, feeling lost and desolate. I did not reach out for the handle. If I went in there...

 

'...run away...'

 

A figured moved inside the house, it was Adam, dressed in nothing more than his shorts, getting ready for bed. Another crash of lightening hit, somewhere on the beach beyond the house, and it drew is attention towards the door, as the flash illuminated my silhouette. He spotted me outside and instantly came over to the door, and pulled me inside, throwing a blanket from the couch over my shoulders. “Jesus Christ Dustin, did you lock yourself out? How long have you been out there? You’re fucking freezing.” He went around, turning on lights that seared my eyes and then poked his head into Ron’s room. I could hear him calling to him, waking him from sleep. Ron stumbled out into the living room and flicked on the fireplace and led me over to it, while Adam busied himself with working on making a pot of coffee. I saw genuine fear on his face.

“Dustin, what happened? Talk to me.” Ron begged. 

I stayed silent trapped in my own thoughts. Ron shook me gently. “Dustin come on man, tell me what’s going on. Don’t keep this inside, you got to work through it.”

Slowly I turned to face him, but not quite even seeing him. 

“I saw Brock.” I said flatly.

In the kitchen, Adam dropped a coffee cup, shattering it on the floor.

“FUCK!” he shouted.

Ron got up and grabbed his phone. “We’re not messing around with this, I am going to call your doctor, Dustin. There’s no way you saw what you did, you’re seeing things again and I am not going to fuck with this.” He punched the numbers on his phone and started to pace. “Adam, get him out of those clothes.” Still picking up the pieces of the broken cup, Adam tossed them into the garbage and came over to help me to my feet, a bit roughly. He seemed a bit annoyed with the whole situation, but held his tongue. I staggered, feeling disorientated and he caught me before I hit the ground and helped me into the bedroom. I started to remove my clothes, starting with my shirt, not even caring about shame, and he closed the door. I turned around to face him, and saw a look of warning on is face. 

Adam jabbed a finger harshly into my chest. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I am not playing this game. I trusted and believed that you were better, but I see that’s all a lie now. You are NOT putting Ron’s life in danger with your lunacy. He’s been nothing but kind to you, and here you are, getting lost inside your own head again.” I could hear Ron speaking on the phone in a low tone to someone. Adam stared me down and gestured toward the door. “He cares for you, maybe not in the same way that Brock did, but still it’s love. I won’t let you take advantage of that. So you need to choose your fucking actions and thoughts very carefully, Dustin. Don't hurt him, don't hurt us. It's not a request, it's a demand, and so help me god... if you do take actions against him...”

The door opened up and Ron came in, as Adam's words were cut off and I sank down to the bed. Ron looked from me to Adam quizzically sensing something was wrong. “Everything alright?” he asked.

He nodded, “Fine.” And walked away from me, gathering up my wet clothes. 

Tossing his phone on the bed, Ron let out a audible sigh. “Well I got the answering service. The doctor isn’t in until morning, and with the storm, we’d be risking a drive through some bad roads, if we go tonight.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to do.” He came to kneel down in front of me, the water dripped off my skin onto the bed. “Dustin, we’re going to get you some help ok, but we just have to wait until morning, will you be ok with that?” he asked. 

My mind wasn't working. Everything momentarily shut down. “Ron, I am tired and cold. All I want to do is get some sleep. Please let me sleep.”

He looked from me to Adam who was scowling in a corner. “Alright. We all need to get some sleep. We will talk about this in the morning. We are only a few feet away if you need us.” He rose to his feet and motioned for Adam to follow him. As they headed out, I could hear them talking quietly in the room beyond.

“He's starting to lose it again, and you know it Ron!” Adam shouted. 

I curled up in a ball on the bed. 

“We don't know that, Adam. All you saw was him standing out there on the deck in the rain. Maybe he just fell asleep and was on his way inside, how can you say that's weird or unusual? You're reading into this far too much, and we both know why.” 

Footsteps pacing outside my door. “You didn't see the look on his face. I did. It was hideous and I swear to god that he had murderous intent there when he looked at me. I don't know if I even feel safe sleeping under the same roof as him. You know what he did to Brock.” Adam growled.  
I could hear Ron sighing. “Don't bring that up. He's clearly not the same person.”

“Exactly, and that's what I am afraid of!” Adam retorted and stormed off into his room. A few minutes later, I heard Ron head off to his bedroom and shut the door. I could barely hear the faint click of the door locking.

The night passed slowly. I listened to thousands of ticks on the clock with eyes wide awake, dealing with so many thoughts inside of my head. After a few hours, I made my way out to the living room, and sat down at the desk, booting up our shared laptop and started to write. It took me most of the night to get through my narrative, as my fingers flew over the keys, desperate to get all the facts down onto the screen. I wanted them to know what happened, they deserved to know all of it. 

It was now the early hours of the morning. I stared out to the window until I saw the first early morning rays of sunlight break through the darkness. My cup of tea still sat next to the computer, only missing a few sips, now cold and completely wasted. The photograph I had taken off the wall also still sat perfectly on the desk. I looked at it one last time and then flipped it over. I had been awake all night after the others had gone to bed, desperately trying to finish the story and not to wake them. Now it was nearly done. They would be awake soon, I had to hurry.

I stared at the blinking cursor for what seemed like an eternity, not sure if I had anything else left inside of me, before writing down the last lines of text with steady, capable hands and hitting the print button. The printer whirred into action as the first black and white lines of my words came spilling out onto the table. I took a moment and ran my fingers over the still damp text, feeling each memory, each emotion as it came to life. Taking off my glasses, I folded them up and sat them down next to the computer, and waited until everything had finished printing before hitting the delete button. I grabbed my favorite cream colored sweater, now completely dry, throwing it over my shoulders and headed outside. 

In the beginning hours of a new day, I took a walk along the beach where I had been last night, stepping past the scattered debris that has washed up onto the shore with a graceful sidestep. My footprints had long since been washed away. The soft sand gave way to the beginnings of a rocky path which led up to the scenic overlook that tourists would flock to during the summertime months, not far from my home. I would often go up there on the warm, humid summer nights with my telescope and stargaze for hours. This was my home away from home, a place where infinity and reality met. My feet followed the path, around the twists and turns to the summit, where I stopped to take in the sight before me. It was glorious. The sun was slowly rising over the mountains, giving the fog far below a ghastly, eerie appearance. The seagulls were calling, ringing in the morning with their shrill pitch. I walked to the edge and looked down to the crashing waves far below. Dangerous, jagged teeth of rocks jutted out in every direction like some sort of ragged monster, waiting to devour it’s prey. It was so beautiful. 

“It took you long enough to get here.” A voice spoke from behind me. 

I didn’t turn around. “I got lost along the way.” I replied. A few moments of silence passed between us. The wind felt warm as it blew through my hair, and I watched the birds soar high on the currents of air. I thought I heard someone shouting my name far away. “How did you know that I’d come here?” I asked, my tone strong and steady. 

He let out a light chuckle. I always loved to hear him laugh. He had the best laugh in the world. It was infectious and made me feel at ease. “I think that we both knew that it would come to this, eventually. This could be any place, any time. All I had to do was wait for you to decide, and I’d be there.” 

“Why?” I kept my eyes fixed on the waves. Was that my name being called out? “Why did you come for me?” 

“Because I’ve been with you since the beginning.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my torso, locking me into a tight embrace. I closed my eyes and leaned back against him. “It’s only fitting that I should be with you at the end, right?” 

I whispered. “Is this the end?” The shouting was growing louder, becoming closer. I wanted it to stop, all I wanted to hear was his voice and those soothing waves far, far below. 

“The choice is yours, it always has been, Dustin. Light or Dark, good or bad. Me or him.” 

I could feel his breath on my skin. I opened my eyes and looked down, seeing small figures of people that I know sprinting up the rocky path. It was Adam and Ron. I rested my hand over his for a few moments, admiring the slender shape of each of his fingers, and feeling the weight of his chest against my back. We had been through so much, and now it was time to make the final decision. I glanced down at the two men hurrying up the hill again, in a few moments they would be here. They were running so fast, I could almost hear their hearts pumping furiously.

He unlaced his fingers from mine and kissed the side of my neck. I melted into him. The soft sounds of the waves far below us made his voice seem so gentle. “I can take all the indecision, all the worry, all the pain away.” Then he stepped back away from me and I was left alone with only the wind whispering to me. 

“Why?” I asked again. 

A voice on the breeze. “Because I love you.”

Those words, those simple words were the ones I wanted to hear. They validated everything, brought it all into perspective, and gave my actions meaning. I started to walk, noticing how my feet made a strange crunching sound on the rocks underneath them.

He loved me.  
He always did.  
But I was always afraid of it. 

As I approached the edge, I hung my toes over it slightly and looked down. Resolution was there below me. Angst and confusion were above me. All I had to do was make a choice. Could I give up the starlight sky, the bright moonlight and infinite reaches of galaxies for the unknown? The waves below seemed so soft, so welcoming. 

I heard the voices calling to me, just a few feet away and I turned around to face them, the ocean far behind me. I held my arm up, and Adam and Ron stopped in their tracks, too afraid to move. “Dustin, for God sake stop this” Ron called out to me. He was panting and gasping for breath, the exhaustion from the long run down the beach catching up with him. His eyes pleaded with me. I remained silent. “Listen, I told you once before that whatever this is, we can get through it together... but you can't leave, not like this. There are people who still care for you.”

Remembering Adam's words, his threat. I glanced from him back to Ron. “Like you?” I asked, coldly. 

Ron was taken back by the tone in my voice. “Of course like me! You're more to me than just a friend, you're family. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it.” 

“I made a promise to someone once.” The wind whipped over the edge, blowing through my hair and billowing out my sweater in dramatic effect. “It was such a little promise. One that should have been easy to keep, but in the end, I made a foolish mistake and broke that promise. Now I have a chance to make everything right again.”

“This isn't the way.” Ron shouted at me. I noticed that Adam kept his distance, a little further away from me than Ron did, and he kept his eyes locked right on me, almost as if trying to anticipate something that was going to happen. Could he take this chance to... Ron held his arm out to me. “Come back, away from the edge there and talk. If you don't want to talk to the doctors, that's fine, you can talk to me again. We can get through this. Do my feelings mean nothing to you?”

“I tried, Ron. Really I did. I thought that I got back everything that was taken away from me, but in truth, I didn't. I lost two of the people that I loved the most. I lost Ben, I lost Brock. Nothing will ever bring them back, and until I atone for what I did to them, I will forever be in torment.” I balled my hand into a tight fist as I spoke, my fingernails gripping so hard that they bit into my flesh.

“Don't say that! You haven't lost everyone! Dustin, you're finally getting your life back together.” Ron hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating what his next words would be. He was holding something back, I could easily tell. Part of me knew what those words were. He said them to me back at the hospital without even saying them out loud, I saw it in his eyes. Now I didn't want to hear them. I prayed that he wouldn't say them. I held my breath and waited for him to speak again. There was a possibility... “Please, I am begging you... just walk away from this. You can do it. Come home with us.”

I let out a sigh of relief, he couldn't do it. He couldn't give up that part of himself to save me. I was thankful. “Perhaps one day we will meet again as characters in a different story, maybe we'll share a lifetime then.” 

Without another word, I stretched my arms out and took a step backwards. Adam rushed past Ron, nearly knocking him over, trying to reach out for me. His fingers barely gripped mine, a light touch for a moment, before I started falling backwards off the cliff. His eyes were wide and there were tears streaming down his cheeks as he slowly faded out of my line of vision. 

It felt like I was flying, soaring high above the heavens and the clouds, in a daydream of peacefulness and serenity. I couldn't hear their voices calling me, I couldn't hear the seagulls screeching off in the distance, even the sound of the ocean churning below me was gone. I saw their faces, one last time, locked in a horrified expression. Adam was standing on the edge of the cliff, still looking down and Ron was on his knees, his hands covering his mouth to keep from screaming. They started to fade away from me and I couldn't help but to smile, because I knew that they'd be able to move on with their lives now. I was jealous, in a way. Had I made the other choice, I would forever be burdened with this guilt, and no matter how many therapy sessions I had, no matter how many friendly discussions or apologies I could make, nothing would ever take the pain away from me. I would never hurt them again. What lurked inside my head had shown me my own arrogance, my own faults and I could not hate it. I missed Benjamin. I missed Brock. It took those things being taken away from me for me to realize how much they both truly meant to me.

As I was falling, I felt something brush past my cheek. My eyes focused on it and I smiled. A small black shape, only a few inches in diameter. A reminder. I reached up and grasped it in my hand. Was it a black feather, or a scrap of black material from shredded robes? I opened my hand and smiled as it caught an air current and fluttered away. That's what it was. How could it be anything else? 

He waited for me.  
I knew he would.  
He told me everything was going to be alright.  
I believed him.  
I trusted him.  
I loved him. 

Standing on the edge of the stage, I looked out to the audience beyond. It was an ocean of fans, all cheering, clapping, singing along with music. Everyone was here. Adam was twirling his drumsticks in dramatic showmanship without missing a beat of music, Ron was to my right, putting out the heavy bass beats and playing up to the crowd. On my left was Brock, shredding the tunes with his signature perfect precision. I pointed to the side of the stage, and Benjamin walked out, picking up a microphone and joining me... the crowd went wild.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsWDUvuF0Xc


End file.
